


Blood-Stained Flowers

by lostintimeandspace



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Gen, blakefield if you look hard enough, this scene really gave me feels, un-beta'ed we die like soldiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostintimeandspace/pseuds/lostintimeandspace
Summary: It would be so easy for Schofield to give up...but the memory of Blake spurs him on.
Relationships: Thomas Blake & William Schofield
Comments: 4
Kudos: 21





	Blood-Stained Flowers

The last thing Schofield remembered was jumping into the river.

  
Now, as he regained consciousness, everything was blurred and dreamlike. But the pain in the back of his head told him that this was real. The water was cold and calm. The world was no longer burning. The blazing nightmare was over. Weak sunlight filtered through the clouds, as if the sun was ashamed to show its face.

The metallic tang of blood was familiar to Schofield. He no longer flinched at the sight of injuries. He'd been a solider for years.

He did not cry when he looked around and saw the mutilated corpses of fellow soldiers floating next to him. He did not cry when he remembered how he had held Blake until he had fallen asleep. How his eyes had shuttered closed. How young he had looked. Schofield had told Blake that the night wouldn't bother him. But it had. The night had taken over the broken town of Ecoust and in the darkness, Schofield had remembered his friend. The world was dark without Blake. Even now, as Schofield aimlessly drifted in the river, the world was dark. Blake had been a spark of hope, of life, of joy. He had been so unburdened, not yet stained with blood and sorror.

Schofield was a soldier. Soldiers did not cry.

  
Cherry trees overlooked the river. They saw blood staining the water. Schofield opened his eyes as white petals begin to fall. They were soft, like a lover's caress.

Faintly, Schofield wondered what he was doing. The water was cool and calm and peaceful. Its quiet ripples told him to sleep, to rest.

  
Blood-stained cherry petals.

_Blake._

Schofield opened his eyes. He had to keep moving. He had to deliver the message.

He had to go. If not for the sixteen hundred men marching towards their deaths, then for Blake.

He could do this for Blake.

So he climbed out of the river, crawling over bloody corpses. He collapsed on the muddy earth, and then a torrent of pain and sorrow flooded his mind. Blake. He was gone. Schofield hadn't had time to accept that fact. He didn't want to. The ache in the back of his head was nothing compared to the ache piercing his heart.

Schofield started crying. His body was wracked with shuddering sobs. He wanted to give up.

But Schofield remembered the cherry petals.

_Blake._

He could do this for Blake.

So Schofield stood up. He kept moving. He had lost his supply bags, but he had never felt so heavy.

He couldn't fail Blake. He had to find Colonel Mackenzie.

For Blake.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on AO3. Let me know if my writing is bordering on anywhere near decent.


End file.
